


Snapshots and Moments

by MyOwnSuperintendent



Series: 1960s [10]
Category: The X-Files
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1980s, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-09
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:55:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24617932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyOwnSuperintendent/pseuds/MyOwnSuperintendent
Summary: Melissa and Monica take a cross-country trip, during which they make a discovery that brings changes to the Mulder-Scully family. Last installment in 1960s AU, now reaching into the 1980s.
Relationships: Fox Mulder/Dana Scully, Monica Reyes/Melissa Scully
Series: 1960s [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/865632
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16





	Snapshots and Moments

**Author's Note:**

> This is an installment in my 1960s AU, although at the point when this fic is set, it is 1980s AU. I anticipate this will be the final installment. Thank you to everyone who has read and commented on this series!
> 
> I don't own The X-Files or anything related to it. Hope you enjoy!

_Snapshot:_

The whole family, on Christmas eve. They’ve got a lot of people this year, now that they bought the house, now that they moved out of the city (still nearby, though). Emily’s smiling, holding the present she got to open early, a doll with three outfits that Melissa and Monica gave her. She’s in between Mulder, a little blurry from running back to his spot before the timer went, and Dana, her head tipped back, one hand on her stomach (the baby’s due in May). On the left, Melissa and Monica, arms around each other; on the right, Charlie, wearing a hideous Christmas sweater and a grin. Even Bill and Tara came this year, with Matthew, who’s looking curiously at his relatives. It’s a beautiful picture, Dana thinks, once she sees it printed. It’s not perfect; all families have fault lines and fractures, and the ones she’s part of are no exception. But it’s them, all together this year, happy and whole.

_Moment:_

Dana and Melissa talk in the kitchen after dinner, once everyone’s getting ready to head their different ways. “You’ll keep in touch with us?” Dana asks. “Call? Or write at least? I just want to know where you are.”

“Don’t worry,” Melissa says. “I’ll make sure I don’t end up in a ditch.”

“Melissa,” Dana says. “Please. Don’t joke about that.”

“Okay, I’m sorry,” Melissa says. “I’ll take care of myself, okay? So I can keep spoiling my favorite niece.” She smiles at Emily, who’s sitting in one of the kitchen chairs, half asleep and half absorbed in her doll. “Besides, Monica won’t let me do anything dumb.”

“What are you saying about me?” Monica asks, coming into the kitchen.

“That you’re my better half,” Melissa says, pulling her to her. “That you won’t let me get into danger on the trip. And that you’ll even get me to write to Dana.”

“Of course we’ll write!” Monica says. “Don’t you want Dana to know what we’re doing? We can send her pictures and everything. And then we’ll have a record of the whole thing, for later.”

Dana laughs. “Well, I can count on one of you, anyway. Thanks, Monica.”

“No problem!” Monica says. “And I don’t know what kind of danger Melissa could get into, anyway. We’re just going to be driving around. Seeing different places. It’s a big country, right? And we’ve never seen most of it.”

“Yeah, don’t worry, Dana,” Melissa says. “It’ll be great. And we will write, and we won’t even be gone that long. Unless we find a place we really like and decide to stay there longer. We’re keeping it open.”

“True,” Monica says. “Who knows what we might find?”

“Who knows?” Dana agrees. She stretches to try to get a bowl back on the top shelf. That’s the one thing she doesn’t like about this house: the kitchen might be well-proportioned for Mulder, but for her, the shelves seem very high.

“Here, I’ll get it,” Monica says, taking the bowl and putting it away.

“Yeah, don’t strain yourself,” Melissa says. “Don’t overdo it. You don’t want to have the baby until we get back.”

“I hope not,” Dana says, “seeing that I’m not due for four and a half months. How long are you planning to be driving cross-country for? I know it’s a big country, but it’s not that big.”

“Well, we’re not planning to be gone that long,” Melissa says, “but like I said, we’re keeping it open. Here, we’ll give you the number every time we’re staying somewhere, okay? And then you can call if you’re having the baby, and we’ll come back.”

Dana shakes her head. “I don’t think you have a great understanding of how human gestation works.”

“Probably not,” Melissa says, “since I’ve never gestated anything. Don’t plan to either. I’m one of those cool aunt types.”

“You’re ridiculous, is what you are,” Dana says, but she’s laughing, and she pulls Melissa close to hug her. “I’ll miss you guys,” she says. “You will write, really?”

“For the last time, yes,” Melissa says. “We’ll write so much you’ll be begging us to stop.”

Bill, Tara, and Matthew have already left, and now Melissa and Monica leave with Charlie; they’re all driving to the train station together. Dana and Mulder stand on the steps to see them off, turning out the light once the car is out of sight.

“We’d better get Emily in bed,” Dana says then. “Tell her Santa won’t come otherwise.” She’s not sure Emily still believes entirely—she’s got a suspicious look sometimes when Santa comes up—but it’s worth a try.

“Good thinking,” Mulder says. “Then we can get us in bed. How does that sound?”

“Good,” she says, and he kisses her, and they go inside.

_Snapshot:_

Melissa leaning against a car, wearing sunglasses and sticking out her tongue. The setting is a generic gas station; you wouldn’t be able to tell where it was except for the 30 MILES TO CHICAGO sign in the background. It falls out of the envelope along with a letter.

_Dear Dana,_

_Well, no danger yet! I even have a picture to prove it—I can promise that Monica and I were both alive when she took it._

_So far, it’s been beautiful. It’s great not having any kind of schedule and just doing and going wherever we feel like that day. We’re in Chicago now, but we probably won’t stay here that long. Cities are nice, but we like being outside much better. Seeing what nature’s like in different places._

_Tell my favorite niece that we’re bringing her lots of presents when we get back! I also bought you a dress, and MONICA said she thought you would like it, so if you don’t, you can’t just blame my taste. We don’t have anything for Mulder yet, but we’ll keep looking._

_We miss you! Monica says to give you her love. We’ll be back soon though, probably. Sometime in the next month to year. Only joking! We’ll write again so you know._

_Love,_

_Missy_

_Moment:_

Mulder’s home before she is, tonight. “You got a letter,” he says when she comes in. “From Melissa, it looks like.”

“Oh, good!” Dana says. She takes the envelope he hands her and opens it, reading her sister’s words. “They’re having a great time,” she tells him. “And…oh gosh…they bought me a dress.”

“Looking forward to seeing that one,” Mulder says. Melissa and Dana have discovered, over the course of their lifetimes, that they can’t agree at all on clothing purchases. And yet somehow there’s an optimism that leads them to try anyway, at times.

“It was a nice thought, at least,” she says. “I wonder if I’ll fit into it.” She looks down at her stomach; she already feels huge, and there are still months to go.

“You look beautiful,” Mulder says softly, putting a hand on her back. “And you’ll look beautiful in this dress, no matter what it’s like.”

“Thank you,” she says. “How was work today?”

“Hard,” he says, “but worth doing. You?”

“The same, actually,” she says. It’s a little ritual they have, variations on these words. She’s proud of him. She knows he’s proud of her.

_Snapshot:_

A car parked by the side of the road, surrounded by fields. Wheat as far as the eye can see. Monica leaning against the car this time, also wearing sunglasses, also sticking out her tongue.

_Dear Dana,_

_Melissa said we should send a picture of me this time, so that you know I’m sound in body. I think she’s having a little too much fun with this._

_We took this picture in Kansas, which we just left; it’s not going to win a prize for most exciting state, but I still liked it. We sat in the car for a long time last night, watching the stars._

_I hope you and everyone else is doing well—say hi to Mulder and Emily, of course, and to everyone else if you see them. I found a store with some of the weirdest postcards I’ve ever seen, so I sent them to Langly. They seemed like his kind of thing. And we got some little things for Emily, and something for the baby too. It’s nice to have two nieces/a niece and a nephew to get presents for._

_We’re looking forward to getting to the coast—we have some friends out there we’re planning to see. But I’ll write again when I get the chance._

_Love,_

_Monica_

_Moment:_

It’s a busy evening for them, so Dana reads Monica’s letter later, once Emily’s in bed and things are a little stiller. She shows it to Mulder too. “It sounds like they’re having a good time,” he says. “And like Emily might not have any space in her room, with all the things they’re getting her.”

“They like spoiling her,” Dana says; she’s nestled into the corner of the couch, her back against the cushions. “That’s what aunts are for.” The baby kicks then, and she puts a hand to the spot. “Yes,” she says, “they’ll spoil you too, once you get here.”

“Moving around?” Mulder asks, and when she nods he moves closer too, interlacing his hand with hers. “We should think about names,” he says.

“Yeah,” she says. “Make a list, maybe.”

“Lot of names out there,” he says.

She’s not sure how to ask, but she does. “If she’s a girl,” she says, “would you…do you want to call her Samantha?” It seems right to give him that choice, to make that the first option they consider. She knows Samantha is always a central presence in his thoughts, no matter how many years go by. That might mean he wants to use the name, or it might mean he doesn’t. But she needs to at least ask, to let him know she’s thinking about it with him.

He's quiet for a minute. “I’m not sure,” he says, eventually. “I think I might.”

“We don’t have to decide today,” she says, and they nestle together on the couch, their hands still joined over the curve of her abdomen, where their baby moves and kicks.

_Snapshot:_

Four women under the trees. Melissa and Monica have their arms around each other; Monica’s a little tanned from their travels, Melissa a little burned. Colleen and Carol stand to each side of them; Colleen has her arm flung out in an expansive gesture, as if showing them the lay of the land. They’re all wearing sweaters or sweatshirts—Oregon is cold this time of year. There isn’t much foliage, out on the farm. But they’re here.

_Moment:_

“Thanks, Sally,” Colleen says, to the woman who took the picture.

Sally nods, handing the camera back. “It’s no problem!” she says cheerfully.

“Do you want us to take one with you in it?” Melissa asks.

“No,” Sally says. “No, that’s okay,” and she turns and hurries off towards one of the buildings.

“Did I say something to upset her?” Melissa asks.

“No,” Carol says. “No, Sally’s just like that. She’s great! But she’s a little shy.”

The wind is picking up, so they turn to go inside themselves too. “It’s really so beautiful here,” Melissa says.

“Yeah,” Monica says. “Reminds me of where I grew up, a little. It wasn’t exactly like this, of course. But just having land.”

“You two should stay out here!” Colleen says. “You know you’d be welcome.”

Carol nods. “Really, think about it. You don’t know how great it is until you’re here. I mean, we were in the city for years, and we thought we had a great community”—Colleen nods, beside her—“but this is so much better.”

“And not just the land,” Colleen says. “You honestly don’t know how much energy men are taking up until they’re not around anymore.”

Melissa laughs. “I bet. Well, maybe someday. What do you think, Monica?”

“Maybe.” Monica shrugs.

“This trip has been amazing,” Melissa says, “but I still like the city too, you know. We have our friends there. And I like being near my sister.”

“No shame in that,” Colleen says. “But even if you wanted to stay for a while, that’d be all right. Most of the women don’t stay here forever.”

Women are working together in the kitchen when they get inside; they exchange greetings. “Here,” Melissa says, “we can help,” and the four of them join in the work. Melissa sees Sally again, when she’s getting some jars off the shelf. She smiles, and after a moment Sally smiles back, tentative. Her hair is curling over her shoulders. For a second she looks familiar, and then it’s gone.

_Snapshot:_

A group of women, sitting together after dinner, in one of the common areas of the farm. The room is warm and inviting. Monica’s looking directly at the camera, and so is Colleen, a wry smile on her face, but most of the others are intent on their own conversations, their own occupations. Sally’s sitting in the background; she’s not looking, but you can see her face in profile. Her hair is braided back.

_Moment:_

“Here, I’ll take it,” Monica says, when the picture comes out of the camera. She begins to shake it briskly, turning to join Colleen and Carol’s conversation. Melissa puts down the camera then, stretching, and starts to wander around the room. Sally looks up as she passes, smiling.

“Hi,” Melissa says. “Mind if I sit?”

“Please,” Sally says, indicating the space next to her on the couch.

Melissa flops down. “It’s really beautiful here,” she says. “I love the energy.”

“Yeah,” Sally says. “Me too. It’s my favorite kind of place.” As Melissa looks at her, she goes on, saying, “I don’t think I could ever…I wouldn’t want to have a family, or anything like that. Nothing where you’re just with a few people all the time. But something like this, where you can meet a bunch of different people, be a part of something, that’s what I like.”

It's the most Melissa’s heard her say since they got here, and she’s intrigued. Not that she doesn’t sympathize with some aspects of what Sally’s said. “Families can be a trip, can’t they?” she says.

“I don’t like having people think I belong to them,” Sally says. “I don’t belong to anyone, right? Nobody has to.”

“That’s right,” Melissa says. “No one owns us.” But she wonders if she’s coming at this from the same point of view Sally is. She certainly has family she wouldn’t want to give up—Monica counts in that category, in everything but legality, and there’s Dana too, and Charlie. And while she’s mostly made her peace with it, these days, she wasn’t the one to give up her parents. She likes to think she’s a free spirit; it’s how she’s seen herself for a long time. But she doesn’t know if she’d want to be like Sally, cutting all ties and enjoying it.

“It’s not that I don’t like people,” Sally says. “Just…you know. Not too much.” She smiles at Melissa then, and Melissa smiles back, and then Monica yells that they’re going to play Scrabble.

“Do you want to join us?” Melissa asks.

“Sure,” Sally says, and she follows Melissa back across the room. She’s good, too; she knows a lot of words that Melissa hasn’t heard of, but when they check in the dictionary they’re always real ones. “I read a lot,” Sally says, her braid falling over her shoulder, trailing on the board as she studies her letters. Melissa looks at her face. That familiarity again. She’s pretty sure they’ve never met, though. She doesn’t know what it is.

She talks to Monica about it that night, where they’re in the room that was allotted to them; it’s small, tucked up in a corner of the attic, but it’s cozy, with a heater and a beautiful wool blanket on the bed. “Do you think Sally looks familiar?” she says.

Monica considers. “I didn’t notice. She was never in our group in New York, was she?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Melissa says. “Unless she came once or twice or something. College?” They only overlapped for a semester before Melissa dropped out, and Sally looks a bit younger than her, but maybe Monica will remember something.

“I’m pretty sure she wasn’t,” Monica says.

Melissa lies down on the bed. “It’s going to drive me crazy. Someone she looks like, maybe?”

“Michelle?”

“Who?”

“That friend of Starchild’s who does tarot readings,” Monica says.

“No,” Melissa says, “she doesn’t look anything like her.”

“She does a little,” Monica says, indignantly. “Same kind of hair.”

“Yeah,” Melissa says, “but this…it’s something around the eyes, maybe…give me that picture I took.”

“You won’t be able to see anything,” Monica says, even as she hands it over. “It’s too small.” Melissa studies it, but Monica’s right. She knows there’s an answer, but damned if she knows what it is.

“Let’s forget it,” she says, tossing the picture aside and leaning in to kiss Monica. Monica pulls her close, their limbs tangling together atop the bed, atop the soft blanket, adventuring together here, far from home.

_Snapshot:_

They’re sitting together on the front steps, the three of them. Emily’s between her parents, looking up at the house almost curiously. Mulder and Dana’s eyes meet, above her head; they’re both smiling at the camera. Mulder is pointing at the house, an exaggerated gesture. It’s sitting on the table in the living room now, in a small plain frame, next to other photographs. Their wedding day. The first day Emily came home with them, back in the apartment. Dana’s medical school graduation. Mulder and Samantha. People and times that are important to them.

_Moment:_

“That’s a cute picture,” Melissa says, picking it up from the table. “When’s it from?”

“The day we moved in,” Dana says. “Frohike took it when the guys were helping us move. And he told us that we were now sold-out suburbanites. But you can’t have everything.”

Melissa laughs. “We love you even if you have sold out. Open your presents.” She turns to watch as Dana unwraps a tissue paper package to reveal a dress. It’s loose, flowing, in different shades of greens and blues. She lets Dana look at it for a minute. “What do you think?”

“Oh,” Dana says softly, turning it over, “oh, it’s really nice, Missy.”

“Do you actually think that, or are you being nice?”

“No, I actually think that!” Dana says. “You know I don’t lie to you.” She shakes out the dress. “And I might even fit into it, too.”

“Yeah, that’s what we were thinking,” Melissa says. “You can wear it now, before the baby, and then after that you can wear it as a loose dress. Wow, I can’t believe I actually found clothes you liked.”

“Give me the credit!” Monica calls. She’s sitting on the floor with Emily, who’s playing with an array of small stuffed animals, each of them from a different state.

“Yeah, Monica should get the credit,” Melissa says. “Because I checked with her this time, instead of just buying it on my own.” She points to another package. “That one’s for the baby, but you can open it. It’s a little hat. And a blanket.”

Dana opens the package. “This is a really neat pattern,” she says, looking at the blanket. “Where’d you get it?”

“At the farm we told you about,” Melissa says. “The one where Colleen and Carol are living now, with the women’s collective. We met this woman there, Sally, and she makes blankets and things like this. And we were telling her how nice we thought they were. And then on the day we left, she gave us this one. We thought it would be perfect.”

“It is,” Dana says. She touches the material to her cheek. “You should give me the address. I’d love to thank her.”

“I don’t think she’d expect that,” Melissa says. She’s looking through the pictures on the table again, idly. She almost laughs when she sees the one from Dana’s wedding, with her in the background as a bridesmaid; talk about different taste in dresses. “She’s kind of…she’s not really about the social obligations.”

“But we don’t even know each other,” Dana says. “And it was so nice…”

“Yeah, that’s what I mean,” Melissa says. “I think she was happy about it, making something for someone she doesn’t know. Just for the sake of making it. I don’t know if she’d want to hear—” And then she stops, her words cut off. She sees it, the picture on the table, and the question that’s been in her mind for weeks has an answer. And Mulder comes into the room then, as if that wasn’t enough, and she looks at him and at the picture again, and she knows, she knows.

Dana starts showing him the dress and the hat and the blanket, and Emily comes running over to show him her stuffed animals, and Melissa is glad. Because she doesn’t know if she could say anything, right now. Usually she acts on her first instincts, but right now she doesn’t even have an instinct.

She doesn’t know what to say, what to do.

_Snapshot:_

It’s blurry, but it’s there. Sally, leaning against a tree outside one of the buildings. She didn’t know Melissa took it, probably wouldn’t have liked it if she did. You can see her face, her long brown hair, her smile. It’s far away and it’s not that clear. But it’s clear enough that you can tell who she is.

_Moment:_

“What’s with you?” Monica asks when they get home. “You were acting so weird back there. I thought you’d have been happy to see everyone.”

“I was. I am. It’s not that.” Melissa’s only half looking at her; she’s digging through the photographs from their trip at the same time. “Look.” She throws the picture of Sally in front of Monica.

Monica picks it up. “Have I seen this one? It’s not very good. What’s your point?”

“I figured out who she looks like,” Melissa says. “I figured out who she is.”

“And that’s why you were acting weird?” Monica asks.

“Yeah,” Melissa says. “I was looking at the pictures on the table at Dana’s. She’s…she’s Samantha.”

At least Monica knows how big this is. They’ve all heard about Samantha, over the years, enough to know what this could mean. “Are you sure?” she asks. “I mean…not that I am doubting you for a minute, but it’s been a long time. She’d be a lot older now…obviously, I know she is older…and you wouldn’t want to make a mistake about this. If you’re going to say anything. Are you going to say anything?”

“I don’t know!” Melissa says. “I do know it’s her. I can tell. I knew when I looked at the picture.”

“But you don’t know if you’re going to say anything?” Monica asks. “Can we not say anything, even? That feels wrong.”

“I know. I know,” Melissa says. “If it was just Mulder we were thinking about…But I’m thinking about her too.”

“Who? Sally?” Monica says, and Melissa nods. “Should we call her Sally or Samantha?” Melissa gives her a frantic look—she has no idea how to address that question—and Monica goes on. “Okay, Sally for now. You think she wouldn’t want you to say anything?”

“I don’t know if she would or not,” Melissa says. “She kept talking about how she was glad she didn’t have a family. How she didn’t want to belong to anyone.”

Monica looks thoughtful. “Do you think she…does she remember Mulder? How old was she, anyway?”

“Six? Eight? I don’t know,” Melissa says. “But I’m just thinking…there could be reasons that she doesn’t want to be found. I wouldn’t want to do anything…But I just don’t know.”

“What do you think you’d want?” Monica asks. She sits down next to Melissa, puts a comforting arm around her. “In her shoes.”

Melissa tries to think, but it’s not that easy, in a scenario full of blanks and gaps. She can’t imagine not wanting to see Dana again, if something happened to tear them apart. But she can very easily imagine—doesn’t have to imagine, even—plenty of reasons to be wary of families, of the rules they try to impose, of their insidious constraints. She can imagine wanting to know what she was getting into before committing to being a part of one.

“I think I’d want to choose,” she says. “To decide myself. I wouldn’t want anything to happen without me knowing.”

“So let’s go back,” Monica says, easily. “We can see her again and talk to her. And find out what she wants.”

“And if she doesn’t want us to say anything?” Melissa asks. “I don’t know how long I could keep that to myself.”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” Monica says. “Maybe she’ll…she’ll at least let us tell him that she’s okay.”

“You think he’d let it rest there?” Melissa asks. “Have you met him?”

Monica almost laughs. “Okay, I know. But we can’t know what will happen until we try. When do you want to leave?”

This is the right choice, maybe the only one, Melissa knows. As is so often the case, she needed Monica’s clear vision to figure that out. “Soon. I don’t think I’ll be able to be calm about it until I do. Can you get off work again this soon?”

“Sure,” Monica says. “You’re not going by yourself. I’d have to explain to Dana why I let you do that.”

Now Melissa smiles. “I don’t think we should drive this time, though. I don’t want it to take that long.”

_Snapshot:_

Mulder, looking at the camera. He’s sitting on the couch—this was back at the apartment, before he and Dana moved, on her birthday last year. He’s smiling, not just a smile for the camera, but a real one, a happy one. Melissa remembers, looking at it, how Dana was standing next to her when she took it, talking to him, smiling too.

_Moment:_

Melissa’s clutching the picture in her hand as they walk up to the farm. “Do you think she’ll recognize him?” she asks Monica.

“I don’t know,” Monica says. “I think she might. We’ve seen that picture of them when they were kids. You can tell it’s the same guy.”

“Yeah, but that’s because we know it’s the same guy,” Melissa says.

“Still,” Monica says, “I think she’ll know. If there was someone I was that close to…I think I’d know.”

Melissa thinks about it. There’s got to be some kind of lasting connection there, Monica’s right. She can’t imagine Mulder caring as much as he does and Sally not caring at all. Never thinking about him, never even wondering. Not believing it, when it’s there on that little square of shiny paper in her hand.

They told Colleen and Carol they were coming back, although not the whole story, and they’re there to greet them at the house. They exchange hugs, catch up on what they’ve been doing in the weeks since they were here before. And then Colleen says she thinks Sally’s in the orchard, so they go that way.

She’s picking apples when they see her. Melissa hangs back for a moment, watching; she’s fast, precise, assured. She doesn’t think they make a sound, but Sally turns suddenly to look in their direction; her face is startled for a second, and then it relaxes. “Oh, hi,” she says. “You’re here again.”

“We’re here again,” Melissa confirms, as she and Monica make their way towards her. “We wanted to see you.”

“Me?” Sally asks, and there’s a stiffness in her face again. “How come?”

“We have…we have something to tell you,” Melissa says. She doesn’t know where to begin, really; it feels almost wrong, to come out of nowhere and define this woman she still doesn’t know very well. “We think…we might know you.”

Sally shakes her head. “No,” she says. “You don’t know me.” She looks like she might disappear on the spot, run off between the rows of trees, take flight from a branch. Maybe that would be easier for her, not having to respond to anyone’s claims.

Melissa tries to be gentle. “Not us, exactly,” she says. “It’s…my sister’s…did you ever have a brother?”

Sally looks at her with wide eyes, as if she’s made the most miraculous guess. “I do have a brother,” she says. Melissa notes that present tense, wonders what it means. If they’re barking up the wrong tree entirely or if it means that she’s held on. Family doesn’t vanish, after all, even when you might want them to, especially when you treasure them.

“What’s his name?” Melissa asks.

Sally doesn’t speak at first. “It’s…” she finally says. “It’s…well, I do have a brother.”

There might be a time for trying to figure this out with words—there probably will be, in a bit—but Melissa doesn’t think it’s that time now. Instead she holds out the picture, gingerly, and Sally takes it from her.

She can tell that Monica almost doesn’t want to look at Sally’s face; she’s turned her head away to study the trees. Melissa follows suit, because she feels the same way. One glance was enough, and this moment isn’t about the two of them. It’s about two other people, and something that’s sacred. They had to be here to make it happen, but they’re not really a part of it; catalysts, she thinks, remembering something Dana once told her.

The silence stretches out. “Is he tall?” Sally finally asks, the words banal, her voice soft and awed.

Melissa finds that she can’t speak, all of a sudden, but Monica answers. “Yeah,” she says. “Really tall.” Sally’s not tall, Melissa thinks. Funny how families work.

“And he’s smart and he talks a lot?”

“Definitely,” Monica says.

“And he…does he remember me too?” Sally asks, her voice the softest of all.

“Oh,” Melissa says, and she can’t help hugging her, and they cling on, holding tight. “Of course he does.”

_Snapshot:_

Samantha at eight, just before she disappeared. She’s smiling in the picture, standing under a tree, wearing a purple dress. The edges are blurred; she’s been twirling.

It’s not the only picture here: it’s one of a pile. So many pictures of Samantha, even from that short time. Samantha as a baby, with a bald head and a little hat. Samantha at two, eating birthday cake. Samantha at four, crying because he took one of her toys away. Samantha Samantha Samantha.

_Moment:_

“Hey,” Dana says softly, as she comes into their bedroom, where he has the pictures spread out. “How are you doing?”

Mulder lets out a breath. “I guess…all right. It’s still hard to wrap my head around.”

“I know.” She comes to sit next to him on the bed, her hands on his back, rubbing gently. “I wouldn’t have believed it could happen this way.”

Neither would he. He keeps thinking back to earlier today, Melissa’s voice on the phone. He almost thought she was playing some kind of sick joke. But it’s real, he thinks, and he’ll know for sure soon enough: they’ll be back here as soon as they can get a flight. Samantha didn’t want to talk on the phone. She only wanted to see each other face to face. He’s not sure if he understands why, but he’ll do this on any terms she wants.

“Looking at pictures?” Dana asks. She picks up one of the two of them, hand in hand on Samantha’s first day of kindergarten, his first day of fourth grade. “This one’s sweet.”

“Yeah,” he says. “Just felt like it.”

“You know…she’s welcome to stay with us for a while,” Dana says. “If that’s what the two of you want, I mean.”

He looks back at her then; he loves her for so many reasons. “We haven’t talked about it,” he says. “Obviously. I think it…it would be good.” But what if it isn’t? What if it’s not the same? Well, that’s a stupid question. It obviously won’t be the same. But what if…The only thing he’s always been sure of is that if he finds her it’ll be like picking up again; it won’t be like two strangers meeting. But now he’s not sure of that anymore. Maybe because he wasn’t the one to find her. Maybe because, when it came down to it, he didn’t do anything.

He doesn’t know how to say all of that, even to Dana. “Maybe it’s not the best idea, though,” he says. “With the baby coming.”

“I don’t think that would be a problem,” Dana says. “Why should it?”

“I don’t know,” he says.

“Hey,” she says, touching his cheek. “This is…I can’t pretend to know exactly how you’re feeling. But I know it’s…I know it’s huge for you, and that isn’t always easy…”

“I should just be happy, though,” he says. “Shouldn’t I?” He is happy, of course, but it’s mixed with so much else: with worries and nerves and doubt and guilt. What’s wrong with him, that he can’t just be happy?

“There’s no should about it,” Dana says. “There’s nothing wrong with how you feel.”

He lets her hold him. “It’s so strange,” he says. “Knowing I’m going to see her again, but not seeing her yet. Maybe when I actually do, it’ll feel…” He doesn’t finish the sentence, because he doesn’t know how. She doesn’t press him.

_Snapshot:_

None. Some moments are too private for film.

_Moment:_

He can hear the door open. He looks up.

He’d know her anywhere, that’s his first thought. She’s still short compared to him (imagine if she’d come back taller). She wears her hair long and loose, curling back over her shoulders. Her eyes, her smile. Her bright yellow dress that seems so young. (He knows she’s not eight years old. It matters and it doesn’t.)

“Hi,” she says, so simple, so banal, and then she’s crossing the room, and she hugs him tight before he can even think about it. He hugs back, his head pressed against hers.

“Where’ve you been, Sam?” he asks.

“Lots of places,” she says.

“I always wanted to find you,” he says.

She nods. “I always remembered you.”

“I’m sorry,” he says, even though it isn’t enough.

“Why?” she says. “You didn’t do anything.”

“I should have…I should have protected you,” he says. “Kept you safe.”

“But we were kids,” she says. “Just little kids.” As if it’s as easy as that. “And you did protect me. When other kids were mean. Or that time I fell off my bike.”

“You remember that?” he asks.

“Yeah,” she says. “Of course.” And then they hug again, for a long time.

“This is where you live?” she says, when they break apart.

“Yeah,” he says. “I don’t know how much Melissa and Monica told you…”

“I know you’re married to Melissa’s sister,” she says. “And you have a little girl.” Her voice is soft when she says it. It sounds like she likes the idea. “Where are they?”

“Dana wanted to give us some space,” he says. “But I’d love you to meet them.” It sounds so formal. “I’m sorry,” he says. “This is strange.”

She shrugs. “It’s okay,” she says. “You’re my brother.”

He is that. “Do you want to meet them, then?” he asks.

“Sure,” she says.

They go into the living room, where Dana and Emily are waiting. (They’ve explained the basic situation to Emily, although that was a little tricky. He didn’t want to scare her, make her have nightmares about disappearing. He knows what that’s like too well. In the end they just told her that Samantha was his sister who he hadn’t seen for a long, long time, but that she’d be coming to visit them, and that they were very glad.) “Hi,” Mulder says. “This is…this is…” He turns to his sister. “Do you want me to call you Samantha?”

“Yes,” she says. “I want you to.”

So he says it: “This is Samantha.” He can tell this moment means a lot to Dana too: it couldn’t be what it is to him, but then he’s shared so much with her over the years that it might be something close. That’s what their partnership means. “Samantha, this is my wife, Dana. And our daughter, Emily.”

“Hi, Samantha,” Dana says. “It’s so wonderful to have you here.”

Samantha doesn’t say anything for the first minute, just stares at them. He wonders if this part will be strange for her. He certainly didn’t have a wife and daughter, or anything like it, the last time they saw each other.

“Oh!” she says. “You’re going to have another baby, too?”

Dana looks surprised for a minute—it’s not as though they could hide it, when she’s due in just a couple of months, but she probably didn’t expect to be asked like that. But then she smiles. “We are,” she says. “In May.”

“That’s wonderful,” Samantha says. “Really wonderful.” She’s smiling too, as she sits down next to Emily. “Hi, Emily,” she says. “I like your doll. Her dress is so nice.”

“Aunt Melissa gave her to me,” Emily says. “You’re my aunt too. Right?”

Samantha looks at her for a moment, and then she laughs. “I guess I am!” she says.

Mulder sits down with them; he doesn’t want to be far away from her, not even across the room. Not yet. “We thought…we wanted to know if you wanted to stay with us,” he says. “For a little while, at least. I know you have your own life too…” He’s not sure what he’s saying.

She looks back at him. “I’d like that,” she says. “Thank you.”

It’s almost strange to hear her thanking him. He feels like he should be thanking her, for being here with him again, for not blaming him for all he couldn’t do. But he takes it in. He squeezes her hand. 


End file.
